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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312938">Shes a cutter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeeFresh/pseuds/BeeFresh'>BeeFresh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>None - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>No Fandom - Freeform, Other, POV First Person, Rated M for self harm and blood, Self-Harm, Warning!, trigger warning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:53:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312938</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeeFresh/pseuds/BeeFresh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Character insert. A graphic description of a night of depression and the touch of a blade. First person.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shes a cutter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a harsh painful reality that a lot of people deal with. This is one story, there are a million more. Reach out to those around you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Its an easy thing to do. When I’m all alone.</p><p>It’s easy when there is no one around to stop you. No one to care. No one to notice.</p><p>I’m surrounded by people every day. People I talk to, people I work for, people I just see on the street. Hundreds, thousands of people. Every single day, and yet, I am alone. Alone in the pain and darkness. It seems simple enough, find someone who cares. But it isn’t.</p><p>There aren’t a lot of people who want to deal with that kind of baggage.</p><p>Its late at night when my tears turn into silent screams of agony. Grieving for the things I can no longer feel. I’m not sad. I'm not happy. I'm numb. So very numb.</p><p>Its 4am when I find it. The perfect blade.</p><p>Its solid steel. And sharp.</p><p>I like knives, the blades are thicker.</p><p>Hurts worse.</p><p>My hands are steady and my breathing is even. My brain is running a mile a second, leaving no room for anything else. My thoughts are strong and toxic. Everything I've worked for; it all means nothing. I mean nothing. I cut once. Under a scar.</p><p>And again.</p><p>Again.</p><p>Again.</p><p>Again.</p><p>Again.</p><p>Again.</p><p>Over and over until my fingers shake and my legs are covered in the blood.</p><p>It sings in my veins, the pain.</p><p>I adore it.</p><p>It grounds me. Burns a pathway through my nerves, pushing me over the edge. Silencing my brain, for one precious moment.</p><p>Its 5 am when i'm done.</p><p>I take a picture. Blood smears look nice with a soft filter.</p><p>Just to add to my collection.</p><p>I notice the triangle I cut into myself years ago has faded. Maybe its time for a new one.</p><p>I sit there and revel in the burn.</p><p>Its 7am when I go to bed. My sweats rub against the fresh cuts and it hurts. God it hurts. My legs are on fire, it hurts into my hips and ankles. I smile.</p><p>I can feel it.</p><p>It hurts for 20 hours.</p><p>Then it fades. Leaving me desiring blood again.</p><p>I stare down at my legs, covered in pants, and imagine those slices. Layers on top of each other. Years of scars overlapping and fading.</p><p>How long, till it happens again.</p><p> </p><p>I get out of bed at 4pm. Plaster a smile on my face. And pretend like nothings wrong. Like I always do.</p>
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